Black by Blood
by AutumnsFey
Summary: Everything has changed for Tsuna - no, for Izar Black. His world has been shaken upside down. Magic exists. He has family - an actually caring slightly crazy family. And for the first time ever, he truly felt like he belonged. It is as Alice said: "Down the Rabbit hole". Hello Wonderland.


_**" His name was Regulus Arcturus Black, and even if I never met him, the one thing I know without a doubt is that he loved you unconditionally with everything he was."**_

How could one sentence let him forget how to breathe?

_" He was raised in a home were physical discipline bordered on torture. His father left the parenting to their mother, and their mother? Well, Walburga was a grade-one bitch. She was so cruel, that her first-born, your uncle and my godfather, Sirius, run away before he was even of-age, and her brutal indoctrination drove her younger son, your mother, into the clutches of the Dark Lord."_

His heart constricted at the thought of how his mother and uncle must have suffered.

One of his most steadfast opinions had always been, and would always be, that children were to be protected and cherished. Children were the greatest treasure in the world, and to preserve their innocence and happiness was the truest honour and pleasure, the one unmoveable responsibility that united the world, from the smallest organisms to the biggest.

(It was one of the reasons he had been so vehemently against having Lambo as his lightning guardian, letting I-Pin become an assassin before she could truly understand the concept of death and seeing Fuuta misused for his ability.

Hell, they had all been children. They_were still _children.)

To discard that principle?

Unimaginable.

Unforgiveable.

_" I always thought that Regulus had been careless and selfish. Once he knew what the locket was, he should have researched for ways to destroy it and counter the potion protecting it. The Black Library is infamous for its dubious knowledge. He could have survived, could have had a future ahead of him. I couldn't understand why he just ... literally threw his life away. At least – at least not until we recovered his body from the lake. Because then, I understood. And I wished I didn't. He never let go of you."_

His eyes blurred once more, tears trailing down his wet cheeks as another sob wrenched free.

There, in Harry-sans hand, was a photograph. It was wrinkled, water-stained and yellowed with age. But the picture was still so clear to him.

A pretty young man, smiling brilliantly at the small bundle in his arms, wrapped in a blue blanket.

He knew that sharp nose, those cheek bones, and the curve of those lips.

Long delicate fingers. Slender shoulders, effeminate looks.

Harry-san didn't need to speak the words out loud, Tsuna understood without ever remembering having met the young man in the picture. A hand settled on his back, comforting and steady, as the other gently laid the photograph in his lap, inches from Tsuna's trembling hands.

This was his mother.

_" Sirius was so angry at his brother for not coming after him once he had escaped Azkaban. Called him a coward fur running away after Riddle's fall, for letting their parents ruin the family even more. He didn't like to talk about him much, but personally? I believe that he was hurt and worried above all else, because in the end, no matter how estranged, Regulus was his baby brother and he loved him. For all his anger, the fact that his baby brother died without either seeing each other ever again, it killed him in ways not even Azkaban managed. And to learn of you? Of the fact that he had a nephew that was never allowed to live? It was one of his greatest regrets. That man loved you, the moment he knew of you, he loved you so deeply. He cried for you."_

Tragedy seemed to follow their family.

It was not fair.

Tsuna hesitated for a moment, before reaching out with his unoccupied hand and awkwardly touching the older mans clenched fists. He was rewarded with a tired smile.

Happiness was such a rarity to find, and he felt so sad for his mother and uncle for never getting their Happy End.

_" I don't know why Regulus hid on the continent, or why he used his Metamorphmagus Ability to appear in a female form during that time. For twelve years, no one knew where he was, or if he was free and healthy. Only the fact that Gringotts hadn't sent out notifications declaring him dead kept the family from losing hope. What I do know is that it wasn't Regulus who allowed Riddle the use of Kreacher, but the instructions that hag Walburga had left before her death. At that point, Regulus had already turned his back on the monster. And once Regulus was informed of how and why Kreacher had been hurt, he took responsibility. He was a good man, never doubt that."_

Maybe one of the only things that Reborn's presence had actually taught him, was that between black and white, good and bad, a grey area existed.

To proclaim something good, didn't justify anything, and to proclaim something bad, didn't necessarily actually condemn it. Things like black and white, good and bad – they more often than not were in the eye of the beholder. Good intentions could breed bad consequences, just as bad decisions weren't necessarily done with evil intentions. It was a matter of perspective. Bad was not evil.

Bad could be forgiven. Evil? True evil was unforgiveable.

And personally? Tsuna thought that the Black brothers hadn't turned out so bad, considering what he had learned of their upbringing.

Besides, who was he to judge someone he didn't even know?

He wished, so very much, to have the right to judge. To know his mother and uncle, to have gained the right ... but he didn't. All he could do was listen and soak up the stories told.

He ruthlessly beat down the desire to ask Harry-san if there was a magical way to meet his dead family.

That was a wish beyond selfish.

… and it wouldn't really sooth the yearning in his heart.

The best he could do was living a life without regrets.

_" He loved you so much, Izar. So very very much."_

It was the first of many embraces. The first time Harry-san would dry his tears.

And the first step to make Tsuna accept that he was so very very loved.

By his mother. By his uncle. By his cousin. By his family.

He was loved.

(It shouldn't shake him. He shouldn't doubt sincere affection. It was not right, was it?

That his immediate reflex was to search for the lie, the deception?

He shouldn't be thrown by Harry-san's sincerity.)

**My name is Izar Black.**

I'm the half-blood son of Regulus Black.

And I'm going to make him proud.

Not because of obligation.

Not because of expectations.

Not because of anyone else's say-so.

No.

I'm going to do it because _**I **_want my mother to be proud of me.

I know that I don't need to prove myself worthy of his love.

But I want to. And that is my choice.

This is my resolution. I have no regrets.

To leave the life of Sawada Tsunayoshi behind was the easiest thing I have ever done …

… because at the essence of my existence, I am, and always have been, Izar Black.

**Izar remembered how he had giggled when he read 'Alice' and the phrase 'down the rabbit hole' had literally jumped at him. **What a silly way to describe something unusual.

Well, hello world, call him Alice.

He had fallen down the rabbit hole the day Harry turned up on his door and flipped everything he thought he knew up on its head; and once he started, he never stopped.

The first act of magic he had ever seen would forever be branded in his mind, simply because it was the most important moment in his life. Harry had laid out two pieces of parchment, and he had let Tsuna decide which to use for the demonstration first, because while both were the exact same, Harry hadn't wanted to be accused of setting a trick up. Once the parchment had been chosen, Harry had taken out a bejewelled dagger and nicked his thumb, before letting seven drops of blood drip down on the parchment.

Izar admitted freely, even now, that he had been sceptical.

Only to stare.

His breath had been stolen as slowly, ever so slowly, beautiful delicate lines had seemed to crawl from the drop of blood, feathering apart like a spider web, reaching up the paper and slowly extending left and right. His eyes had grown bigger as he had watched how a slanted cursive had formed beneath that first drop of blood, spelling out the name 'Hadrian James Potter-Black' which had then connected to the lines above, were other names had been beginning to form, among them Lily Evans Potter and James Charlus Potter. And written over James Potter had been Charles Fleamont Potter next to Dorea Nymphadora Black Potter.

It had been a family tree.

" This is my immediate family", Harry had smiled. " Would you allow me to show you yours?"

Izar had only managed to nod, awe-struck.

A small nick, a drop of blood, and he had watched with bated breath as the same spider web had unfolded on the other piece of parchment, as his name was formed, as above him two other names had appeared.

Iemietsu Sawada …

… and Regulus Arcturus Black.

Izar had felt himself go numb as he had read the second name, as his eyes had taken in the fact that were Nana Sawada should have been written – another name took place.

It was one thing to be told that the woman you called Kaa-Chan wasn't your mother, but another to actually be shown prove of that fact. It didn't have a chance to settle in before.

Stunned, he had looked up at Harry, only to be met with horrible compassionate eyes.

" Fourteen years ago, Iemitsu Sawada lied to Regulus Black, who he to this day only knows as Fiona Schwarz, and told him that their baby boy had been still-born. Regulus never got the chance to check the family tree for you, he never knew you survived – though, admittedly, checking the tree wouldn't have done much good, seeing as your grandmother had the house-elf burn you out. Our family didn't even know your name, or when you were born, or if you had truly died; we only knew there had been a child, but no names or dates. Regulus died believing you dead. But now that we got you, Izar, neither I nor anyone else in the family will ever turn away from you. You belong with us."

Izar had felt dizzy, and Harry had stopped there.

But – it had been his first introduction to magic, and from that moment, Izar had fallen in love.

There had been something so right about seeing his older cousin use magic to make things flow, to see sparks dance on the ceiling and have that warm hum fill the air. He had felt the flames under his skin dance, but for once, there had been no barrier, nothing holding them back, and he had watched in awe as orange sparks had shot out of the tip of Harry's wand once Izar touched it. The proud look on his cousin's face had made him blush.

Magic …

Magic was unbelievable.

And he was completely captivated.

**Magic was … indescribable.**

It was beauty in itself. And like every beauty, it had a horribly beastly side to it.

A side absolutely heart-breaking. So freaking heart-breaking and horribly cruel.

Seeing his own memories in a pensieve, seeing how his Kaa-chan turned away from him again and again and again when he needed her, when he was begging for just one word of praise, of acknowledgement … Harry had warned him, had told him that he would view his memories differently now, with the new perspective he had gained, but …

But it wasn't like that. It wasn't as if his memories were tainted, or that he wanted to see them in a bad light. No. Honestly? He had prayed, he had begged, that Harry would be wrong, that his cousin just didn't understand the relationship he had with his Kaa-Chan, maybe a cultural misunderstanding … but, no.

It was painful, but he had needed it. He needed to see his own memories, to look at them not like a touch-starved child protecting the only parental figure he knew, but as if he saw a different unrelated parent-child-interaction. And once he saw, he couldn't unsee. It simply made him see events in a clear context now, without the self-denial that had tinged it in rosé and yellow. And understanding that …

Magic was as cruel as it was beautiful.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

**As a buddhistic proverb says: 'Three things can't be hidden, the sun, the moon – and the truth.'**

It tasted bitter on his tongue.

**Settling in England was an experience.**

Culture Shock described it perfectly.

The environment, from the way people acted and reacted, their slang, to the flora and fauna and the architecture, everything was so different, he sometimes felt as if he had been sucked into an anime and was reliving someone else's life. The school system was a complete turnaround from how he was used to, and he was eternally grateful that he would be home-schooled. The cuisine was heavier, and the unfamiliar seasoning flashed him every time.

That isn't to say that things were a bad kind of different.

Just … it wasn't what he was used to. And maybe that was exactly what he needed.

In fact, Izar was pretty sure he would get used to his new life relatively easily. In the end, an animal was an animal, grass was grass and humans were humans – no matter how individually unique, the basic essence was the same.

The two only things that he had actually already gotten used to after barely a month in England were Harry and magic – oh, no mistake there, they still awed him and left him breathless in their wake, but he had at least gotten used to being rendered speechless, be it by the wonders of magic or the simplistic approach his cousin took to their relationship.

Family was family.

The End.

Izar had shamelessly cried himself into hysterics on realising that, really, that's all there was to it. It made the experiences of the past year and a bit only even more cruel and heart-breaking.

What he, admittedly, hadn't gotten used to, and wasn't sure when he would get used to, was their even further extended family.

It had been a slap in the face to learn that, despite once upon a time being a wide-spread and heavily inter-married family – ew, inbreeding! - they had been reduced to not even a whole dozen members who actually had the right to call themselves Black. Inbreeding, war and old age had taken so many relatives since the seventies, it was simply tragically. He hadn't been able to look at their family for a whole week afterwards.

As such, every family member was cherished even more.

Izar thought he had prepared himself for meeting his remaining family, but, well …

_Narcissa Black Malfoy was an imposing regal Lady. That was his first impression upon meeting the older woman. Izar couldn't help it, the moment he spotted her he stiffened and stood still – afraid that he would flinch away otherwise, as his cousin turned her piercing gaze onto him, the other woman who had come in with her doing the same. Narcissa took one look at him, looked at her sister, Andromeda Black Tonks, and visibly swallowed, a sheen of tears making her eyes glisten. Both sisters looked on the brink of tears._

_Izar was completely helpless. Neither Lady looked like the kind who allowed others to see their tears, so … help!_

_But his traitorous cousin simply huddled together with Teddy, the little brat of a cousin he had met a few times in the last few weeks, and they snickered at his misfortune._

_Bakas!_

_His glare was cut short as slender but strong arms embraced him and a riot of black curls obstructed his face._

_" Oh Izar, you look just like your mother."_

Meeting The older-older generation he had expected would be an experience to remember.

He wasn't disappointed.

Izar had prepared himself for uptight ancient people who would turn sentimental, like his cou-aunts, he was supposed to call them aunts, had been.

Ah, how wrong that had turned out to be.

… it would have been nice if they had fulfilled his expectations, but, well, they were Blacks.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Those dusty relicts – and yes, he damn well was going to call them relicts, even if it most would consider it the definition of suicidal (after the torture they had inflicted on him, he had so earned that) - were fucking psychos.

The fact that the traitor that had practically adopted him just stood there, obviously cackling like a lunatic behind a somewhat polite mask, didn't help his mood at all.

_His great-great-uncle Marius Black looked at him, and snorted, before ordering him to stand before the ancient man._

_Izar did, expecting a thorough inspection …_

_" You have good eyes, child. Black Eyes."_

… _only to get patted on the head._

_Again. And again. And again._

_Like a three year old._

_His eye didn't stop twitching that evening._

_His great-uncle Alphard Black locked – like a punk. An old punk. His appearance completely threw Izar, and he couldn't keep at all from face-planting as a surprisingly strong 'pat' on the back sent him gen ground._

_He couldn't suppress the full-body twitch at the rancorous laughter that sounded above him._

_" Well, well, well. Lookie here, there's still hope for our family of bloody fools, hear me, you gits beyond the veil? In your face, Walby-bitch."_

…

_Really, did he look so homicidal that Harry had to ban him from the curse section of the library?_

… _he certainly felt like it._

_Oh, well._

_His he-didn't-know-how-many-times-removed-cousin – she was actually Great-great-uncle Marius cousin – Callidora Black Longbottom looked at him along her straight regal nose and blinked._

_And blinked._

_Then – she cooed._

_Izar was frozen in horror, unable to react, to escape certain doom, as those bony fingers came nearer and nearer …_

" _What a cutie!"_

… _and pinched his cheeks._

_Repeatedly._

_Painfully._

… _murder …_

_Maybe he should try it._

_It was supposed to be therapeutic._

_(The mischievous glint in the old hag's eyes didn't escape him._

…_. murder ...)_

_So yes, he was somewhat in a homicidal mood once he met the last Black of the set, one that he had heard many many very conflicting stories about._

_Draco Malfoy, aunt Narcissa's son._

_He really didn't know what to expect._

_The calm composed blond who drank tea with them certainly wasn't it._

_But if the last encounters taught him anything, than that first impressions were very misleading. None of the others had seemed anything but polite composed individuals (sans maybe great-uncle Alphard) and they had all turned out to be a bit – special._

_(Touched) In the head._

_Politely speaking._

_Well, Harry had warned Izar that while the infamous Black Madness mostly showed itself in battle, every member had his or her brand of it. Some more, some less – but all classic Black._

_So, Izar was apprehensive when cousin Draco finally spoke._

_" Typical Potter."_

_What?_

_His guardian bristled._

_" Hey!"_

_A pointedly raised eyebrow was directed at Harry, before those piercing blue eyes returned to him._

_" Just this once, I actually agree with your decision, dearest cousin."_

_Harry had already opened his mound to protest, only to stop. And stare._

_" Huh, wonders never cease."_

_Cousin Draco gave a droll look at that. It expressed his feelings quite clearly, and Izar was very impressed that 'Your idiocy doesn't cease to surprise me, either' could be so succinctly conveyed with a single blink._

_Izar hid his grin behind his tea cup at the twitch in Harry's eye._

_Family wasn't so bad._

_(Especially when he could gang up with them on his traitorous cousin. Oh, how the tables turned!)_

**Harry and Teddy were still his favourites, though.**

**Izar enjoyed the sensation of those calloused strong fingers stroking through his hair.**

His magic and Flames hummed contentedly, purring like a satisfied cat beneath his skin, lazy and warm.

He liked to imagine that this was what having a caring parent felt like. Harry was always there for him, comforting and loving him like a child, while at the same time firm and protective.

Sometimes Izar wondered if Harry actually really saw him as his son, because while the older male certainly behaved like it, neither had ever breached that topic.

There was only so much emotional pain and rejection Izar could survive, and losing another parent - or parental figure in this case – was out of question.

So, he chose to enjoy the moment and not complicate it.

" Have you thought about what you would like to do once you finish your NEWTs?"

Izar blinked up at Harry, thrown by the question.

" I ... ", he started, only to trail of.

No. He actually hadn't.

Learning about his family, learning magic, it had so completely consumed him that he hadn't had a chance to think about the future.

There were so many options. He had only been with Harry for a year and a half, and had in that time caught up on his education to include the material of a third year Hogwarts student. He was supposed to on the fourth year material very soon and would most likely begin with the fifth year material after his sixteenth birthday. So NEWTs at eighteen, either with most of the other students of his age group or a few months later. While the older generation hat certainly expressed their pleasure at his aptitude for magic, and their intentions to see him sit his NEWTs with the Hogwarts class he should have belonged to, no one actually pressured him.

In fact, Harry had made it clear – to everyone and their delicately offended sensibilities – that Izar had all the time in the world to finish his education.

As long as he did finish it.

Chancing a glance up, he saw nothing but idle curiosity in those green eyes and sighed in relief.

His cousin hadn't changed his mind.

But – it was a good question. What would he do after qualifying as a fully certified wizard?

… there was only one thing he knew with absolute certainty.

He sit straight up, dislodging that caring hand, and looked earnestly at his cousin who looked back with a raised eyebrow.

Izar took a deep breath.

" Harry, I don't want to fight. I never wanted to fight again", Izar rushed out, his voice nearly breaking as panic started to build up at the mere idea.

Because he couldn't do it again. Not again. He had already once failed in asserting his wishes, had been forced to go against his own nature; and yes, he had done so to protect his former guardians, but – none of that would have been necessary, if Reborn had listened to him. He wouldn't be pressured into something completely against his nature ever again.

Holding his breath, he closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable judgement.

He startled instead.

Magic, so warm and welcome, tinged with a hint of cloud, washed over him. Harry's magic and his soulfire, his cloud Flames, caressed Izar's amber aspect, his sky Flames.

" That's okay, too, little one", came that warm baritone. " Take your time. Don't rush. I was just curious."

Izar smiled back and settled down again.

He should have known better than to doubt Harry, but some habits remained persistently.

" I just ... don't know yet", he continued his explanation softly. " I – I think I just want to experience the world for now. To just – there's so much to learn about magic, to experience living in a world so fantastical. I don't want to make a decision I regret."

Izar could practically feel the approval as his cousins hand settled back on his head, continuing the tender care.

" That's okay, too", the man, who he had started to regard more as a father than his own had ever been, hummed. " You have all the time you need."

**Surprisingly, Izar found his calling quickly.**

He hadn't even meant to.

One of the charities Harry had opened up after the war was an orphanage for magical orphans. They didn't difference by blood status, but took in everyone. Be it witch, wizard or magical being, the caretakers, and his cousin first among them, welcomed all children with open arms.

Izar was so damn proud of Harry.

Like every Monday, Harry was scheduled to spend the afternoon at the orphanage helping out, having a meeting with the head and spending time with the children. He had asked Izar if he would like to join him, it wasn't the first time that Izar had agreed, and he did so again gladly; those little tykes had grown on him, kind of like loveable fungus. Harry went first, flooing straight into the heads office to get the meeting done with, while Izar used the public floo into the Main Hall.

Stepping into the mansion was always like a fresh breeze of air.

Here, children were allowed to be children. It was beautiful.

A smile stole over his lips as he heard the tinkling sound of childish laughter ring through the air, and small feet running quickly in his direction.

Shaking his head, he called out: " No running!"

The laughter stopped for a moment, before a chorus of little voices called out variations of 'Mister Izar' or 'Izar-nii-chan'. The tykes had taken to Japanese like dukes to water, and were utterly in love with honorifics, which was quite hilarious, seeing as how while he taught the little ones how to use them, Izar himself had trained himself out of their use.

He only rolled his eyes as the sound of running continued and a gaggle of four children, three boys and a girl, appeared at the top of the stairs. His smile dropped as they started to rush down the stairs, and he opened his mouth to stop them – but it was too late.

Little Max stumbled half-way down.

Izar didn't think he had ever moved faster in his life.

He sprinted forwards, and threw himself up, catching the little body as the child tumbled down, curling around Max and shielding him as they fell backwards and hit the last few stairs.

Alarmed voices cried out as Rose, Kevin and Malcolm reached for them. Izar held up a hand and forced a shaky calming smile on his lips, before looking down at the four year old whose hands were clenched so tightly in the fabric off Izar's shirt, he knew the little one didn't even notice. Brown eyes were clenched shut as tears trailed down red chubby cheeks.

" Hey, hey, Maxie, everything is okay, it's okay Maxie", Izar soothed gently, carding a hand through the child's hair.

" Mi-Mis-", the child sobbed too much to speak, so Izar continued to gently comfort and whisper to him.

The other children had grabbed hold of him, and were looking shaken up at them. He let the grip on his amber aspect slip slightly and was reassured as the children slowly calmed down, embraced in his sky Flames. He had been told that they were soothing, and was glad that it seemed true.

He could hear hurried steps on the first floor and knew at least one adult was on their way to look for the commotion.

" Maxie, are you hurt?"

A small nod was his answer.

" Can you tell me where?"

He didn't get a verbal answer, but the little one opened his eyes, and showed him his knee. It was scratched, and bled a little bit.

" Ouchie. May I make it better?", Izar asked with a small smile.

Another nod.

He slid out his wand and whispered: "Episkey." The children were silent as they watched the split skin knit back together, leaving nothing behind. He followed with a quick "Ferula", which was completely unnecessary, but the look of delight as a frog-themed bandage wrapped around the child's knee made that irrelevant.

" All better?", he asked softly.

" Th-thank you, Mister Izar", Max whispered, and Izar simply patted the child's head, before asking the other children if they were okay. Besides being a little shocked, none were actually hurt. A bit dazed and afraid, but that was to be expected.

" What happened here?!"

Izar looked up and saw his cousin standing at the top of the stairs, accompanied by Mister Creevey, before the two adults made their way down hurriedly.

He couldn't quite keep the humorous tone out as he called: " Don't run or rush!", and delighted in the blushing faces of the children and confused ones of the adults.

" You need to set a better example", he continued teasingly.

" Izar, what happened?", Harry asked once again.

He sighed.

" The little ones had a little accident, but everything is okay now, and I'm sure that certain little feet will remember not to run in the house now, right?", he addressed the blushing children.

Four small earnest heads nodded repeatedly.

Harry seemed to relax.

" Well, that is good."

" I will take our troublemakers outside, I think we will make ourselves a nice sitting day in the sun", Mister Creevey said.

" But Mister Harry and Mister Izar are here today! We want to play with them!", Malcolm protested.

" Well, and if you hadn't run in the house, maybe you could have played outside together", Mister Creevey returned and shepherded the children in the direction of the garden.

Max went unwillingly, looking pleadingly at Izar, and after exchanging a quick glance with Mister Creevey, Izar kneeled down and said: " I'm coming out soon, and then we can sit together, ne?"

Hesitantly, the child nodded and followed his friends.

Harry and Izar were alone. Izar felt his cousin's hand settle on his shoulder.

" Are you really okay?"

" Mhm", Izar hummed, turning to look at the older man. " Max took a tumble, and I caught him. Healed a scrapped knee. I think the scare was enough of a lection for them."

" And are you unhurt?"

Izar opened his mouth to say yes, only now that he thought about it, he felt his left shoulder hurt.

" Ah ..."

Chuckling, Harry took out his wand and run a quick diagnostic, before informing him that he had bruised his shoulder and would simply need to hold it still and cool it once home.

Izar nodded, but his mind was still on the accident, or more accurately, on what happened afterwards. Harry noticed and asked him about it.

Looking at his hands, Tsuna answered him: " I think I know what I want to do."

" Oh?"

Looking up into those green honest eyes, he was once more reminded of how simply sincerity and care for another being could change lives. And how much he lov-car-loved the man who had become like a parent to him, the first one who had shown those feelings for him.

" I want to be a paediatric healer."

The best thing?

Seeing Harry smile, as the man's hand reached up to tousle his hair.

" It suits you."

**Seventeen.**

He was officially an adult.

He certainly didn't feel differently. Huh, Izar had no idea what the fuss was about.

But his family had taken his coming of age as the perfect occasion to officially introduce him as the heir to the family. He would only take the title of Lord Black once he turned twenty-one, a compromise that had been reached because Izar didn't feel ready and Harry was doing a good job – Izar had actually tried to weasel out of accepting the lordship at all, but no one allowed that.

Mean.

Well, the party thus far had been a success. Izar lost count of how many hands he had shaken, how many people had been introduced to him. It had already been hours, and finally, just now, he was able to escape for a quick breath of air. Standing on the patio, fireflies illuminating the night, he felt nothing but peaceful.

" Ah, what a beautiful flower has graced my presence", a smooth deep voice sounded behind him. " A light on this grey evening bewitching the bleak night."

Startled, Izar turned around. He barely kept from gaping.

A young man, around his age, stood before him. Wearing traditional black dress robes, his broad shoulders made for a striking figure and Izar felt himself blush as dark-violet eyes didn't leave him. The stranger was tall, well-built, with olive-coloured skin and black wavy hair.

Izar was fascinated.

" I - I'm actually really not sure what to say", he stuttered out, trying to gather his wits.

The stranger smiled charmingly.

" No matter what you say, dearest flower, the sweet sound of your voice makes my heart race."

Ookay – wow.

No matter how sexy, that – who the fuck could say something like that without dying of mortification? Izar snorted.

" Wow. You can actually say that with a straight face."

His companion didn't seem deterred.

" It's only the truth, my flower", the man promised, a hand coming up to cover his heart as he fell into a half-bow.

Mhm.

Izar knew himself enough to know that he was attracted to man and woman. Gender didn't really matter to him. And while he found this handsome stranger way too sexy for his own good – yeah, creepy stranger-danger.

" Yeah ... bye."

He went to step around the other, but the man stepped into his path: " Wait! At least let me have your name, so that I my fall asleep to its taste on my lips."

Nope. No way.

" You are creepy."

Aaand – yes, the stranger actually fell to his knees.

Why did Izar always attract the creepy?

" Please, oh please! I beg of you!"

… the handsome creeps.

Still creeps.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. You don't give strangers information. You don't.

But …

Damn, did this man have a set of puppy dog eyes on him.

… and the broad shoulders didn't help any.

" ... Izar."

A sigh escaped the others lips as he stared up at Izar.

" Ah ... sweet Izar, what a lovely name to grace a beauty as yourself", came the instant reply, a breathy note to it.

" And you are rude. I have no idea who you are", Izar countered, finally fed up.

The man blushed.

" Oh, forgive me my manners. Alexander Zabini, but you may call me beloved future-husband."

… were all magicals' brain-addled? Or just those he had met?

In what universe did this pick-up line actually work?

" ... no thanks."

He stepped around the man.

" Wait!"

Zabini turned with it.

" No."

He managed to avoid the grasping hand.

" Please!"

The man tried again.

" No."

Finally, Izar had managed to step around him.

" Just for the night!"

Izar froze.

Zabini froze.

Slowly, they both turned their eyes to where Zabini's hand had landed – namely, Izar's bottom.

A moment of silence passed.

Then …

The violet-eyed boy squeezed his hand.

Mount Izar exploded.

" Pervert!"

He spilled literally fire at the other boys murmur of "So worth it".

**" ... young love, huh?",** Harry hummed as he looked out at the patio were his cute little cousin was hurling verbal abuse at another very familiar boy.

Said familiar boy's older cousin stood next to him, chuckling with a knowing smirk and a sinister gleam in his eyes.

" This will be interesting to watch", the violet-eyed half-Italian chuckled.

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend. Really, Blaise Zabini had turned out to be a good friend once they had been out of Hogwarts and away from the tension the School House System breed, but his friend was, at the end of the day, a Slytherin.

And he made sure to remind the former Gryffindor every so often of that fact.

… Harry was pretty sure it was on purpose. Just to freak him out.

" ... Blaise, you are a sadist. Your definition of interesting is mentally scarring", the green-eyed man deadpanned.

That sly smirk didn't die, instead it was turned up a notch and Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to blush (Damn Zabini, he looked freakingly handsome) or hex that smug idiot.

" ... and?", came the insufferable reply.

Harry just sighed.

No use trying; it was destined to be an exercise in futility.

He turned back to the patio, and couldn't help the smirk that stole on his lips as he watched little Izar attempting to hex little Alec – and really, Harry truly sympathized with Izar there, Zabini's were a persistent bunch, and once they sat their sights on someone, they didn't let go – but, well, Harry also knew his cousin.

And he knew the boy had better aim than that; hell, when aggravated, he had the aim of the devil.

… he hated to agree with Blaise on principle (bantering was so much more fun), but ...

" You are right. This will be fun."

**Sometimes, Izar hated his family.**

Smug meddling twats, the lot of them.

Really, he hated them.

…

… fuck ...

He was so pathetic. He couldn't even lie to himself.

But hey, at least they were his loveable twats. Nothing a few good hexes couldn't reinforce.

Besides … the guaranty to return them had already expired.

Oh, well.

_~ The End. Still interested in another part? Next up: Harry's View. But for those interested, there's a little Side Story between this and Part III. ~_


End file.
